Page 141 of Late Fees

“You probably need food. Something to soak up the booze. We should have had the leftover pokey stix last night. We’d be doing a hell of a lot better right now.”

“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” I said, shaking my head. “Aspirin would’ve helped, too.”

Slowly, we made our way to the kitchen, where Dutch was sitting on the counter, drinking from a Big Gulp. In his other hand was a chocolate donut with bright blue frosting and sprinkles. “Morning, Sunshine.”

Without speaking, I put my hand up to wave and continued to the coffee maker. Quickly, I started to prepare a pot to help wake us up. Tilly stopped at the other side of the counter, placing her elbows on the surface and cradling her chin.

Somehow, she even looked cute when she was hungover.

“I knew I smelled sugar,” Tilly said looking at Dutch’s donut.

“You could smell this?” Dutch asked, looking confused as he sniffed the frosting. “Aw shit, sprinkle went up my nose.”

“Did you guys go to 7-Eleven?” I asked, gesturing to their cups.

“Yeah,” Ronnie said, her voice as hoarse as mine. “We had to drive off campus. It’s crazy you don’t have one in town. But it was worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Dutch said before popping the rest of his donut into his mouth. “I’m doing the Dew, baby! Like sixty-four ounces of it. I’m gonna be bouncing off your walls in a minute. Look out, Weezer.” He hopped off the counter, and they clinked their enormous cups together, and Ronnie laughed, pulling one foot up on Tilly’s chair.

“Breakfast is on the counter…or I guess it’s lunch. Whatever, there’s donuts.”

“Thanks,” Tilly said with a yawn, reaching over the breakfast bar to grab a vanilla long john.

“Oh, and there’s a package for you,” Dutch said pointing to the center of the table, “I was still a little drunk when I woke up, and I thought I was at my place. So, when the UPS dude dropped it off, I thought it was for me, and I…opened it. Sorry.”

Tilly shook her head, leaning against the breakfast bar, chewing her donut. “No biggie. It’s fine.”

“I think your mom came through, although I was hoping for cookies. Don’t moms always send cookies?” Dutch said, winking at Tilly. But then he looked at me, and his mouth dropped open.

“Oh, shit,” he said, like he’d seen a ghost.

Or remembered something he wasn’t supposed to say.

But what?

My brain wasn’t awake yet, and I could barely remember what he had said.

“What?” I asked, confused. “I like cookies. What’s the problem?”

Tilly’s body tensed, and she stood up straight, dropping her donut on the counter. “Ignore him,” she said, wiping her face, and wasted no time in hustling to the table, grabbing the large manilla envelope with its end ripped open. Tilly then turned and hustled back to her room.

Something’s definitely up.

The smell of brewing coffee pierced the air just as Tilly left the room. Following close behind her and wondering why the hell she was acting so strangely, I stopped at the door frame to her bedroom. “What is that?” I asked.

“It’s nothing. Just, um, a care package from my mom. Like Dutch said, no cookies this time.”

“Then why didn’t you just open it? I bet your mom sends good care packages.”

“Um, I don’t know, I just…” She wiped her eye, avoiding eye contact. “I just thought I’d get it out of the way.”

“Hmm,” I said, feeling suspicious. I wanted to believe her and just let it go, but things between us were already a little off, and it was making her behavior seem even more unusual. “What did Dutch mean by that?”

“By what?” Her voice was curt, stressed.

“That your mom ‘came through’ or something?”

“Oh, um,” she froze. “I was, um, venting to him at the store, I think. That my mom never sends me anything. So, I bet that’s all he meant; I’m not really sure. Smells like the coffee’s just about ready. Come on, I’ll get you a cup.”

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